No Place Like Home
by Arabian Princess
Summary: Quatre returns home after a long time away and gets a surprise.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Wing. This fan fiction has no commercial value, and I am not making any kind of profit or income off of this story or the use of characters owned by Sunrise and Bandai.

No Place Like Home

There's no place like home. No truer words ever spoken. Coming home after the war(s) had been wonderful had been wonderful, but he had dreaded it. First the fated confrontation with his father had awaited him, and later an empire of a business, a mountain of responsibility, and too many duties to name greeted him. Yes, all that greeted him now, too, but he was ready for it now. Back then, he had been scared, but he had refused to admit it. He had tried to fulfill his obligations with the ease Miss Relena and Dorothy had done theirs. At one point, he had announced he needed a vacation, which everyone readily and gladly let him take. He had never told anyone the length of his vacation, so for quite some time, he had justified it to himself as still vacation, but now he was able to admit the truth: he had run away. He had abandoned his duties, his family, and his inheritance. He had left no word with anyone—just vanished out of the blue. He had kept an eye on the business for a short time purely out of guilt, but he had stopped that after a couple months. In the last couple of years, he had felt more than guilt tugging at him, urging to look into it at least; thus, he knew his sisters had managed it well. They would be angry when he returned and would probably refuse to allow him to return as head of the company, and at one point, he would have allowed them, feeling guilty for worrying them, but he had grown in his seven year absence. He had been a mere child when all this was originally put on his shoulders, and they honestly should never have let him handle it all on his own—even if he never asked for help and refused their feeble attempts at it. He had grown in his journey, and he knew now how to get what he wanted, how he wanted it, how to take care of himself, and how not to let someone push him around. Now he saw why his father always insisted things be done only his way. Things would be much different this time around.

It was dark as he walked down the road, darker that it should have been because of the rain. He took a deep breath, smelling the wet colony. Another thing he had learned on his trip was that each place smelled differently during and after a rainstorm. It was good to be back where it smelled of childhood memories. He walked by the park, taking a moment to look at it. The colony had changed in the years since his childhood, especially since his absence, but the park remained. The equipment was updated, but he could still see where his nanny would chase him, yelling it was time to go home. He remembered where his favorite swing used to be and how his high his father would push him despite the misgivings of his nanny.

However, he was not returning to reminisce about his childhood. He needed to get home soon. He quickened his pace and went to the property. He wanted to cause the least amount of commotion possible, so he took his private entrance. It was good to see his master code still worked, but he would have to change it in the morning. He went to the back door and knocked. It took a few minutes, but the housekeeper _did_ open the door. She looked at him, shocked. She probably wondered who could get through the security. Then, a larger expression of shock hit her face as she realized just who exactly was at the back door.

"Master Quatre!" she exclaimed. "You-you're…you're back! Oh! I can't believe it! You're back! After all this time!" She looked up at the sky. "It's raining! Oh, come inside! Come inside, sir." She ushered him inside quite motherly, and he did not bother to stop himself from chuckling.

"Mrs. Pitt, it's so good to see you, too." He gave her a large smile.

"Oh, you should have called! It's raining so hard out there. Jerome would have picked you up in a heartbeat," she fretted.

He laughed. "What? And miss your reaction?" He grinned and kissed her cheek. "The walk was good, and it's my fault for not checking with the weather rotation before coming. It wasn't that bad, honest. Are there many people here?"

"Usually, sir, but it's Thursday, and everyone leaves early on Thursday. I _am_ sorry it took me so long to answer the door. I stay late to do the expense reports—I still do it just as you and your father like it. It's easier with a quiet house, and there's no one around, so I…."

"It's perfectly fine," he assured. "In fact, I'm glad to have an empty house. I probably won't get a peaceful moment for a long time. It'll be nice to have a quiet night at home at my return."

Mrs. Pitt relaxed considerably. "It's good to have you back. I suspect this means I shouldn't inquire about where you were just yet?" He shook his head. "Well, I'm sure I'll find out soon enough, so I won't pry too much." She looked him over. "You've changed so much in the seven years, Master Quatre. You're not as skinny as before; I'm glad. I always said you needed to eat more and get more meat on your bones." She chuckled. "You seem to have gotten plenty of meat on them. Oh! I hope you plan on getting rid of this." She touched his beard. "You don't have a face for facial hair. You need a hair cut, too. Oh! Is this an earring?"

He grinned. "I did plan on shaving the beard, but maybe I'll keep it if you don't like it." She slapped his arm playfully. "Yes, it's an earring. No, it's not going away. I haven't decided about my hair. I'll have to get a trim to get it neat at least. I haven't had too much money lately to shave or get a hair cut."

She shook her head a little sadly. "You never had to go without."

"Yes, I did," he insisted. "I see life in such a different light now. I'm a better man. I won't run away anymore. I promise." He gave her another kiss on the cheek. "Don't stay any longer than you normally would. I'm perfectly capable of making any food I feel like, and I can bathe myself, read, and sleep all on my own. That's all I require for tonight. You should get rest. Tomorrow will be a media field day, I'm sure."

She nodded. "Yes, I suppose it shall. Are you sure you don't need me? I was almost done with my work and about to leave. I can stay and just be quiet. You won't notice me at all."

"I'm sure, Mrs. Pitt. I can survive on my own for a whole night in my own house. I've done it for quite some time outside my house."

"Well, okay," she relented. "If anything happens, call me. I still live nearby. I can be over here in five minutes."

"Take my umbrella, the large one. I don't want you getting too wet."

"A little rain won't make me melt," she assured. She tried to force hot tea and some cookies on him, but he insisted she head on home. He saw her out, promising to be at the house when she returned early the next morning. She gave him a big hug, commenting again on how much he had grown up, and then finally left for home using one of the house's large umbrellas. He watched until she was out of sight then shut the door.

He smiled and headed up to the master bedroom and stripped off his wet clothes, tossing them in the clothes hamper which had long been empty. He started the shower. While he waited for the water to warm a little, he looked at himself in the mirror. He chuckled as he remembered Mrs. Pitt's expression when she realized who he was. Yes, he was not that young Gundam pilot anymore. His hair was still blonde, but it had darkened and was almost the same tone as his father's hair. He had his grandfather's beard, but Mrs. Pitt was right. It looked better on his grandfather than on him. Suddenly it started to itch, and he had to get rid of it. He lathered his face and noticed the shower. He leaned inside it and turned off the shower and started the tub. He shaved off the beard, including the mustache, and cleaned up the sink.

It occurred to him at that moment that he had no other clothes to wear once he finished his bath. The clothes in the house were fit for when he was seventeen, and as Mrs. Pitt had gone on and on, he had a much fuller physique now. The water level in the tub was still small, so he had time to go down the hall. Sleeping naked would be no problem, but he did want to wear something around the staff when they returned in the morning. He stopped off in his old room first. He pulled out what had to be the largest set of pants in the room, and he marveled at how skinny he used to be. He shook his head with a smile and headed down to his father's room.

He opened the door without hesitation. He went over to his father's closet, pleased to see the staff kept up with their duties despite his "vacation." He pulled out a pair of pants, tried them on, pulled out a shirt, and tried it on. They were not exactly perfect fits, but they looked well on him. They were not that baggy or tight. They would do until he could refill his wardrobe properly. He grabbed an outfit for the next day and a comfortable pair of pants to wear to sleep. Tossing the next day's outfit into his room, he returned to the bath tub just in time to see his tub had filled to his desired amount of water. He turned off the water and eased himself into it.

At first, he lay there, eyes closed, soaking in the warmth. It had been nearly a year since he was able to have a hot bath. It had been even longer since he was able to have a bath in peace. The silence calmed his ears. There was no yelling, no arguing. No one would interrupt this time. Best of all, he was home. He knew he had said it in his mind over and over ever since he got to the colony, but the feeling simply engulfed him. He had dreaded this day for years. However, the world had not ended, and he had not had a huge block of stress put back on his shoulders.

He thought about what he would have to do in the morning as he scrubbed himself free of all the dirt. He should probably call his sisters first. That would only be nice. Then he would have to call the Board of Directors. The company would have to be handed over to him as immediately as possible. Of course, before he even got halfway through his sisters, the media would know of his reappearance. Hm, perhaps he should just have someone call each of his sisters. It would save time. When they wanted to yell at him (and they would), he was sure they would call without hesitation.

The warm bath was still very hot, but all the dirt in the water now made it quite less inviting. He washed his hair while he let the water out of the tub. To rinse it out, he turned the water back on and put his head under the spout. He left a ring of grime, and he knew he would hate to look at it in the morning, so he dried off and cleaned the bathtub quickly. He put on the comfortable pants he found in his father's room. His hair needed to be combed as he saw once he looked back in the mirror. He made it straight and neat, noticing its length once more. He found a small rubber band in one of the drawers and tied back his hair. Yes, he would definitely need to have a hair cut in the next few days, but he smirked as he thought about keeping it this way until his sisters saw it.

The contrast of linoleum to carpet to rug to hardwood floors to stone tiles on the floor felt wonderful between his toes as he headed downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Pitt had done an excellent job, and the refrigerator and the pantry were well-stocked. He found some cold roast beef left in the refrigerator. He made himself a sandwich with it. Ignoring Mrs. Pitt's and his father's rules, he walked through the ground floor as he ate his snack. Everything was well kept, but it missed people. The house needed someone to live in it as all houses did. He examined the library, but he was not in the mood for reading just yet. He went to the music room, but he did not feel like playing at that moment. He stopped in the living room, standing while he ate. That had been one of his tricks as a child. He would eat standing up so that the crumbs would fall on the floor and not get all over the couch; thus, his father would not find out his deviousness so easily. Instead of watching television, he gazed out the window. It was raining and dark, but a few kids were still outside playing. He watched them for awhile after he had finished his snack, but it was late and wet outside, so it was not long before their mother called them inside.

He made one last round to make sure all the lights were off and all the locks were bolted. Of course, he should have known Mrs. Pitt would be diligent in his safety (the guards probably knew he was back now), but he still had to put his mind at ease by checking. Everything was good, so he headed up to bed. He ignored everything in his room for the night. He could inspect it later. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes. He frowned as something lay between him and the wall. He reached over and pulled out the teddy bear his father had given him as a child. He hardly needed it now, but he smiled, put his arm around the bear, and fell asleep.

_Ding, dong.  
Knock, knock, knock._

_Ding, dong.  
Knock, knock, bang!_

_Ding, dong.  
Knock, BANG! POUND!_  
Quatre groaned. He was awake, so it must be morning. If it were morning, there should be servants at the house. Why then were they _ignoring the door_? He rolled over onto his back, squishing the teddy bear.  
_Ding, do—ding, ding, ding, ding-ding-ding-ding, dong!_  
He opened his eyes as much as it pained him. It was still dark. In fact, it was darker than when he went to bed. The storm was harsher now, too. The rainstorm had become a thunderstorm with lightning illuminating the room at random intervals. He looked over the clock. It was a little after two in the morning. That was why no one answered the door: it was only he. He lay in bed considering whether even to answer the door. He could just go to sleep. However, something told him to answer the door. It was the right thing to do, and he felt it would open a new door. Plus, he also suspected the intruder at the door (who had to have gotten passed the guards somehow) would not stop making noise until he answered the door, and thus, he would not get any sleep until he answered that damn door.  
_BANG! POUND! **POUND!**_  
He muttered to himself and rolled out of bed. He stretched as he walked down the stairs. As he got closer, he could hear the person pounding on the door was calling out his name, yelling—whether in anger or simply to be heard over the storm, he was not sure. A baby's wail also came through the door. Whoever this was and whatever the reason, it had better be good. He had gone to bed quite early, knowing he would need the rest for tomorrow. Being interrupted in the middle of his sleep cycle made him very angry. He was very cranky when he first woke up, and he was in the middle the deep part when this "visitor" woke him, so he was even crankier than usual.

He made it to the door and opened it without even checking who was behind it. He squinted a little with his sleep-ridden eyes. He could not make out who was in front of him. It was a figure holding a wailing baby. Suddenly, a flash of lightning streaked across the pseudo-sky, and he recognized the figure as Lucrezia Noin. Eyes wide, fully awake now, he ushered her in the house and shut the door. Well, _this_ explained how the intruder got passed security.

"Miss Noin?" he gasped. He looked at the infant. "When did you get back from Mars?"

"Quatre," she wheezed, out of breath. "I'm sure you have a lot to say, but it will have to be for another time. I don't have time right now. I need you to take this child." She nodded down to her arms.

All he was able to do was gape at her.

"This is Zechs' child. I need you to take him. Someone is after him, Quatre, and me too. The child can't stay with either of us. We're on the run. We can't care for him. He needs a home. If anyone finds out this is Zechs' child, they'll come after him and kill him—or worse. Please, Quatre."

"You want me to take your child?"

"This is Zechs' child, not mine." She thrust the child into his arms. "I wish I could explain more."

He took the boy simply not to drop him. "Why can't he go to Relena?"

"First, if he's with a relative, it'll be much easier to track the child back to Zechs. They may go after our relatives just to get at us. Plus, he has Zechs' hair color, which is your hair color. He's going to look much more like your son than Relena's son."

"What about the boy's mother?"

"She died a few days after he was born. I won't tell you his name. You'll have to come up with a new one on your own. He's four months old and hates being alone—also hates thunderstorms. He's up-to-date in all his shots."

He looked at the baby.

"Thank you, Quatre! You're saving the child's life and putting Zechs' and my minds at ease. Don't tell anyone who he really is. The world including your family is to know him as your son only. We'll come back when we can." Noin went to the door.

"What about Relena? I can tell her, right?"

"No! No one can know. Zechs and I have to stay on the run. Our deaths will be reported in a few weeks. Don't believe any of it. Even if we were to die, you have to raise him as your son. No one can know. Once we 'die,' you'll be the only living person who knows his true father. You have to promise me you won't tell a soul."

"Mrs. Pitt will know he's not my child."

"Then swear her to secrecy however you can. You have to promise me only you and this Mrs. Pitt will know the truth."

"I promise," he said, still having many questions swimming in his head. She vanished then. Walking out of the house, he lost her in a couple meters in the heavy rain. He shut the door and looked over his "new son." He had not questioned her, sensing the urgency of the business. Whoever it was that was after them must have been very dangerous. Still, he wished he had been able to protest more or at least to ask more questions.

The baby had not stopped screaming his head off, and it had even gotten louder since Noin had left. He undid the child's outfit and checked his diaper. Seeing he was clean and dry, he took the babe to the kitchen and started rummaging around the shelves. Surely there was one employee who kept breast milk or formula in this place. Unfortunately, if there were any lactating employee with a child, she did not keep any of it in the house. With the child getting louder by the moment, he knew his only choice was to call Mrs. Pitt. Well, at least he would have time to tell her of the situation without anyone overhearing. He picked up the phone and dialed her number, praying he remembered it correctly and nothing had happened to cause her to change it.

"Hello?" grumbled a sleepy, moaning voice.

"Mrs. Pitt?"

"Oh, Master Quatre," she said yawning. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to call me—is that a _baby_ I hear?" Suddenly Mrs. Pitt was wide awake.

"It's a bit of a story, and I'd feel better telling you in person. I'll explain once you get here; can you please come over? I need some help. I need something to feed him. He's only four months old. Bring over clothes for tomorrow, and you can just finish sleeping here tonight."

"I'm coming over right away, sir. Just for the child if nothing else. He'll need proper care."

He chuckled a little and offered to send a driver over to her house as it was very late at night, especially with how bad the storm had gotten.

She refused and hung up before he could protest any further.

He shook his head and bounced the child a little in his arms, hoping to calm him. He went up to the old nursery. He had walked down that long hall so many times as a screaming child who wanted nothing to do with naptime. Rummaging through the tiny cabinet, he found a new pacifier still in its container waiting for a guest—or a new heir. He managed to open the package with one hand and cleaned off the pacifier. He put it in the boy's mouth and relaxed as he settled down. The baby's eyes drooped, and Quatre figured they were both equally tired.

Loud knocking came from downstairs, and he marveled at how fast Mrs. Pitt made it to the house. Of course, she probably quickened her trip knowing there was a baby who needed her. He dashed down the stairs, which caused the babe to stir and to threaten to resume his screaming. He opened the door. Instead of the warm, older lady standing at the door, it was a thirty-something, athletically built guard.

"Master Quatre! So, Mrs. Pitt was right." The guard bowed in the rain. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir. Mrs. Pitt called a few minutes ago, telling us you were here with a baby, and she made me promise to check on you two. I can see that you're fine."

He nodded. "That does sound like her."

"She should be here any moment, sir. Jamal went to pick her up." They turned as a car drove up. An umbrella came out of the vehicle and moved to the other side. Another door opened then shut, and Mrs. Pitt came with another guard under the umbrella. She clutched a large brown grocery paper bag. Once the guards saw that Mrs. Pitt and Master Quatre were safe and sound, they gave a nod and returned to their posts.

"Now where did this babe come from?" Mrs. Pitt asked the moment the door shut. She put the bag on a nearby table and took the boy from his arms. "Be a dear and please grab that." She walked into the kitchen. He grabbed the bag obediently and followed, smiling.

He relayed the story of the boy's arrival, leaving out Noin's and Zechs' names. He only referred to them as his friend. They wanted anonymity, and while Mrs. Pitt would always know he was not the child's real father, the other two would at least have some kind of protection.

"Oh, you could be in a lot of trouble, Master Quatre!" she fretted. "What if they come after you two?"

"It sounded to me like whoever is after my friends don't know about the child, or maybe they think he died when his mother died. Whatever it is, I agreed to take him and claim him as my own." Quatre unloaded everything in the bag. There were many bottles, nipples, and baby formulas. "Do we really need so many bottles? I think we have some in the nursery."

She shook her head. "The Winner heir would not use whatever we have stocked in the nursery, Master Quatre. You need new things."

"Who said this kid is the Winner heir?"

She gave him a look then instructed him on how to make the formula. He complied and nodded. "Yes, I suppose if I show up with a son, he'd be my heir…."

"Master Quatre?" she asked as she tested the milk.

"Just…I thought my own son would be my heir."

"Surely they will come back before he is able to be heir. He is only a baby, sir."

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm really tired." He rubbed his face with his hand. "You're right. That's years away. I shouldn't assume the worst, and…I agreed to this. They're counting on me." He looked at the baby. "Let me have him, please." He took the infant and started feeding him. He nodded toward the living room, and they entered the room while turning on the light.

"How did they know you would be here? You were 'missing' for quite some time."

He looked out the window at the rain falling down the window. It was still raging out there. "I don't know. I can only think they searched for me and managed to find someone who knew I would be returning soon and then watched, waiting for me to return. Other than that, I have no answer."

"Perhaps one of your friends told them? Trowa or Duo or whatever their names are," she suggested.

"I haven't seen any of my former friends in years."

"Oh? Really?" she asked. "What happened to make them former?"

He gave her a look that said he would not explain any further just then.

"Fine, keep your secrets. You obviously spent a lot of time around babies, though."

"What makes you say that?"

"I see how well you hold the babe and feed him. I also know how much contact you had with them before you left. You've done everything expertly."

"I…thought I had a child for a while."

"You thought?"

"He turned out to be my friend's child." He looked away, not wanting her pity or any more questions on the matter. It was not the time for him to relive such things. He was too tired, and he would rather relive it when he had settled back into his old life.

That thought made him chuckle some.

"What is so funny?" Mrs. Pitt asked.

"Just thinking about 'settling back into my "old" life,'" he explained. She raised her eyebrow. "I have no intention of falling back into my old situation. This might the old setting, but I plan on starting a new life—_another_ new life." He looked down and saw the child's sucking was slowing. "I think someone is done." He put the bottle down, then laid the small soft rag on his shoulder, and burped the child.

"He needs a name. You said he's supposed to get a new one?"

He nodded and looked down at the babe. "Yes, he needs one. No one will believe he's my son if I don't name him." He looked at Mrs. Pitt. "What do you think?"

She smiled and named a few names. He named a few more, and they soon whittled down the list. He smiled down at the now sleeping infant. "Welcome to the world, Gabriel Winner."


End file.
